


all plans are golden in your hands

by luffia



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angst, F/M, POV Second Person, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 18:16:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3738544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luffia/pseuds/luffia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it's like being in love with a supernova.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all plans are golden in your hands

 

 

 

> **one: she slips on a grin as easy as pouring glycerine.**

here's how it starts: you're a law-abiding turian in a law-abiding city, and while you may be frustrated with all the red tape, you are happy. at least, you think you are until the first human spectre storms in, turns your world upside down and shakes it, sweeps you off your feet and steals you away in a galaxy-wide headhunt for a madman.

 _shepard_ means velvet words and power. she fights so gracefully as to be absurd, slips on her armor like a second skin, kills like it's easy and instinctive. 

breathing is easier when she's around.

here's how it ends: she dies over a frozen world a dozen light years away and something inside you dies, too.

 

 

 

> **two: she smiles strained (crossing the styx twice will do that to you).**

here's how it goes on: she comes back from the dead and you feel air in your lungs for the first time in two years. you'd still follow her anywhere.

only now the  _wanting_ has changed, deepening like a river after a hard rain, and you want to climb inside her, join her in eternity. it's like being in love with a supernova, she shines brighter than burning magnesium and it feels like you'll grow blind if you stare for too long.

in the end, she blasts you into hell and drags everyone back by the hair. it's such a  _shepard_ thing to do, too, because she pulls people in like gravity, tears them down and drowns them with her words, makes them believe she can do the impossible.

and she has, several times now.

but she's commander shepard, and of course she's not done yet. so she goes to aratoht alone, and returns with three hundred thousand souls weighing her down. she kisses you before she turns herself over to the alliance. the sun is high in the sky, warm rays radiating off your plates. her lips are chapped like deserts and war, and  _the reapers are coming_ rings in your ears.

in the end, they strip her of rank and ship, leave her locked up, beating herself against the walls and you are furious ( _how fucking dare them)_. but hurricanes are not meant to be caged, and when the reapers come knocking they will send her out to greet them.

 

 

 

> **three: her stare is glacier cold as she turns her lips upwards.**

wars always come with a price. what does the galaxy care about the psych, the peace, the happiness of its savior when whole planets are burning? they throw her at the wolves and scream at her  _save us save us save us all._ _  
_

she unites the krogan and the turian, the geth and the quarian. shepard gets the galaxy to rally behind her and you don't bat an eye. you are used to seeing her perform miracles.

yet sometimes you feel like your supernova may be running out of oxygen. she wakes up screaming and refuses to talk about it, insists that she's fine even with everything falling to pieces around her. she looks tired, so so tired, tells you  _i'll sleep when i'm dead_ and you try to crush the feeling of foreshadowing.

she fucks you raw that nigh, spreads you out and leaves you trembling and bare under her. you burrow into the hollow of her neck, inhale and smell sweat, gunpowder smoke and power, because shepard is just crackling with that, always has been ever since you were young and naïve and looked up at her like you had just found your salvation. you still pour liquid adoration over her, starlight shining down on her and making her scars positively shine, skin deceptively soft and fragile because shepard believes in spilled blood a lot more than in anything else. she rides you, deep to the hilt and arches, screams when she comes.

she's running out of oxygen so she eats away at herself instead, and you're scared, so scared, that she will glow too hot one day and go down in flames because that's the only way it can possibly end.

(here's how it _really_ ends: she dies alone over an earth on fire, the reapers destroyed and entire civilizations chanting her name like a prayer.

 _i'll sleep when i'm dead,_ she said.)

 

 

 

 

> **interlude: she laughs like it's a whisper.**

here's how it _really_ starts: she slides up beside you and grins, bright and feral and  _alive_ , armor clammy with blood that dries like candy against skin, dead bodies at your feet. she smiles, and it's like you're touching a burning star.

something inside you stirs. soft, vulnerable, unfurling.

the sun shines behind her head like a furious red crown, crimson smear on her cheek like a sign of a warrior. her green eyes are incredibly fierce and you shudder all the way down to your spine.

the planet's lava is hot, ground near sublimating, but it is still not as hot as what you feel right now.

shepard clasps your shoulder, lazily flicks her fingers in silent instruction. 'yes, commander', you choke out.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. i like my shepards like i like my coffee: super strong. also, second person.  
> 2\. she breaks my heart.  
> 3\. what my starbucks drink says about me: 'hot tea with two teabags' aka i feel slightly guilty i'm just here for the free internet.


End file.
